Summertime Sadness
by KatanaBladeArtist
Summary: He would never find true happiness-it's the curse of the Uchiha, after all. But neither will she, because he is her happiness. Oneshot.


**_A/N: Once more with the depressing stuff...only this one here actually made a friend (who doesn't even know the fandom) cry. I felt guilty and absolutely ecstatic at the same time._**

**_FF doesn't like me putting lyrics in my stories, so listen to the chorus of Summertime Sadness, by Lana del Ray, while reading._**

* * *

It was their first and last dance.

Both of them knew it.

He holds her close (or at least tries to), swaying slightly to the sweet, sweet music that only he can hear. It's almost as if the choirs of heaven and hell have combined, and are singing sweetly in his ears.

It's the sound of death. He knows it.

The ends of her hair are tickling the exposed parts of his chest, through the shredded shirt he wears. The many cuts there sting when the fine strands brush by, coating themselves in his blood. Her tears burn even more, scorching his heart and leaving his every emotion raw.

He's open now, he's opened himself to her.

And she can see him for what he truly is.

* * *

She's hurting. It pains her to see him this way, laying in her lap, pale, angular face almost sickly in the pale moonlight.

He's soaked in blood. His own.

And she's certain he's dying, here, in her arms.

The one who'd abandoned her in the first place.

She knows she has no business feeling anything for him, not after that night, but she can't help it.

Because she's in love with him, and has been since she was thirteen. And now he's slipping away from her for the last time, and she thinks that _maybe, just maybe, _she'll follow him this time.

* * *

He can hear it.

Her heartbeat.

He can feel her hands, warm and cool at the same time, pouring her life's energy into his chest, trying desperately to heal him.

Somehow, somewhere, he knows she won't succeed. He's too far gone.

And how does he know?

He can hear his mother, his father, his brother, calling from the other side of the void. Their voices are ringing in his ears, mingling with the angels and demons and _her._

She's sobbing, pleading with him to stay.

But he can't. This is his punishment, his atonement for the many, many sins he's committed.

He will never find true happiness. It's his curse.

But it's also hers, because he _is _her happiness.

* * *

Black eyes, like clear, deep pools of ink, are dimming rapidly now. He's losing his hold on the world, and she can see it.

His sight flickers, and is gone. The last thing he sees is burned into his mind. Her face, her brilliant green-opal eyes glittering with tears, rose hair streaked with gore, porcelain skin scuffed with dirt.

_Beautiful._

Her fingers are sifting through his hair, nails scraping his scalp in a comforting manner. Her voice has cracked, from sadness and exhaustion and the weight of the entire world on her shoulders.

And she sings, softly, tearfully, with equal parts regret and blame.

Regret for the life about to extinguish.

Blame for the owner of said life, for wasting it on hate and revenge.

* * *

His breathing is slowing, the irregular gasps seemingly the only sound on an otherwise quiet planet. He can almost sense the crowd gathering around them, but he no longer cares. She is all that matters. It's always been that way, and they all know it.

No one else is dying. No one else is dead. He is the only casualty.

He feels the unique aura of his best friend, his brother-in-arms. It's luminescent orange tinged with deep, dark crimson. The color of lantanas dipped in blood.

Their teacher's alabaster glow is dim, most likely from the exhaustion of the battle. He stands beside the other male, close enough that he can see their energies intertwine.

Her tears are falling on his face now, cleaning away the blood and dirt in long streaks that make it look like he's been crying, too.

He does what he'd deemed impossible. He expends his last breaths to fuel his cracking voice that belongs nowhere near hers.

Why?

Because she's perfect. She doesn't deserve someone as low as he is.

She doesn't deserve a traitor. The very same who threw her heart away the first time she offered it because he was too stubborn to admit that he felt the same way.

* * *

Her name slips from a swollen tongue, past dried lips, and through attentive ears. She starts; he can feel her slight jump from his position face-up in her lap. He repeats it, savoring the taste of it.

His hearing is fading, now, too. But he's still aware enough to speak, still aware enough to hear her angel's voice sigh his name.

She's stopped pleading with him; she accepts that he's dying, and that she can do nothing about it.

They stay there for what may be an eternity, or what may be a heartbeat; calling out to each other, two lonely hawks circling in a sky clouded with despair.

And as he slips away, the last words he speaks are the ones he's been meaning to say since he first saw her again, the last thing he hears is her answer, and the last thing he feels is her kiss.


End file.
